“Archibald Hill isn’t a smart choice,” Winter says. And the condescension in her tone blows my fuse for good.
“Oh, because you’re the queen of smart choices. Should I remind you how we got here?”
“What do you mean here?”
“With you in a wedding gown.”
By this point, I swear the hairstylist is reconsidering her policy of no food and drinks, and would gladly grab a box of popcorn and a Coke.
“What’s wrong with me getting married?” Winter accuses.
“Nothing, but let’s see all the smart choices that brought you to this point…” I pretend to pull my chin. “First, you accepted an assignment in a savage land with a team you knew nothing about, then got yourself chased through the jungle by maniacs, and shot at, and almost killed. At which point you decided it’d be an excellent idea to sleep with your boss, who, FYI, you hated until the day before, and, tah-dah, six months later you’re getting married. You’re not smart, you’re—”
“WHAT?” my sister yells.
The fight dies out of me, and I sag back on the armchair. “Lucky,” I whisper. “You’re lucky it all worked out for you. And I’m happy it did. I genuinely am. But this week has been hard for me. Half the people here hate me. And I wanted an escape.”
“And you chose the worst possible one.” Winter’s features soften as well. “Can’t you see I just worry about you?”
“Well, you don’t have to. Archie has been just a shot of morphine to get me through the week, nothing more. And it will be over by tomorrow, anyway. Or better still, it’s already over.”
“I’m sorry, Sammy, but it’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“Because morphine has two serious problems.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“For one, it cures the pain, but not what causes it. And second…” Her eyes lock with mine. “It’s addictive.”
Twenty
Archie
Like a caged lion, I pace around the groom suite, brooding about last night. I try to break down my feelings about this quicksand I’m stuck in because I’ve no clue how to get out, or even if I want an out at all. I’ve always been so sure. Always so ready to walk away. But with Summer, it’s different.
Yeah? How?
My bed was empty last night, and I hated it. No matter that Summer was too drunk to make any conscious decision or stay awake for more than ten minutes; I didn’t want to leave her alone, even if it was the right thing to do. I wanted to stay by her side. To hold her. To wake up with the coconuty smell of her hair in my nostrils. To bring her water and aspirin for the headache she’ll be nursing right now. I hate even more that I don’t know how she is. And most of all, what she’s thinking.
But I also have to face other realities. She’s already had too many wrong relationships in her life, and I can’t steal more time from her if I’m not positive I want the same future she does: marriage, kids, to be a family.
Do I want any of those things?
Until a week ago, I would’ve laughed in anyone’s face who suggested it, but now, I’m not so sure anymore. Spending every day of the rest of my life with Summer doesn’t sound like a prison sentence. In a pre-Summer world, tying the knot literally translated for me to putting a length of rope around my neck and jumping. Whereas now, letting her go sounds like suicide.
But kids? What if we screwed them up? What if I sucked at being a father? Having a baby is not a decision I can change my mind about later, and I’m not sure where I stand.
I wish I could get some fresh air, but, apparently, it’s unthinkable for the best man to abandon the groom. As second in command, it is my sacred duty to stay put for the next two hours with nothing to do but stare at the walls. Of my two cellmates, the groom seems the most relaxed. Logan is lounging in an armchair, reading a book—he had the sense to bring some entertainment—and looking as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Tucker, on the other end, is sitting straight-backed on the couch, hands resting on his legs, knees bouncing up and down in a nervous rhythm.
What does he have to be nervous about?
I can’t stand the cabin fever any longer, so I open a window to at least let in some air. Then I sit on one of the revolving chairs in front of the mirrors lining the back wall and spin around a few times. Neither gesture helps to clear my head. Maybe talking would be a better approach.
“Hey, Logie Bear,” I say, distracting the groom from his reading.
“Yeah?” My best friend lifts his gaze from his book.
“You think you and Winter will have kids soon?”
Logan shifts a bookmark to the right page, closes the book, and puts it to rest on his lap. “We decided it’d be better to wait until the work in Thailand is over. I wouldn’t want to travel so much when they were little.”
“But that could take years,” I say. “Is Winter okay waiting?”
“If things in Thailand were to stretch longer than a year or two, our backup plan is for her to give birth in Bangkok and spend her maternity leave there, while I work at the museum. She’d have to cut back on wild photography expeditions anyway while the kids are little.”
“Kids, plural?”
Logan puts the most annoying, dreamy smile on his face. “Yes, we want at least two.”
“And she’s okay sacrificing her professional life for them?”
“If a great opportunity came along, she could leave them in my care. I was talking more about the initial phase when she’ll be breastfeeding and won’t be able to get away from them for long periods.”
“You sound like a wet nurse.”
“Hey, you asked. Anyway, both our lives will have to change. I’m thinking of taking on more teaching hours, add more curricula. Teach both semesters. Heaven knows the dean at Berkley would be thrilled; I’m their Indiana Jones right now. And Winter is moving to Berkley. We agree it’d be better to raise our kids in a smaller town. And we both want a more stabilized lifestyle.”
“So, no more expeditions? No more adventures?”
Logan sighs. “Finding the lost city of gold has been my life’s achievement. I can be contented with that.”
“And when were you planning on telling me this?”
“I’m starting a family; I thought it was obvious I won’t be spending half the year traveling around the globe anymore.”
Nu-uh, dude, it wasn’t obvious, I want to scream. So, my entire life is about to change anyway, whether I want it to or not. No more trips around the world, at least not with my best friend.
I turn to Tucker. “And what about you?”
“Yeah, a more stabilized life would be good.”
“No, I was talking about the kids thing. You want them?”
Tucker shrugs. “Oh, that. Yeah, sure.”
“Just like that. You don’t have to think about it for even a second.”